


Just Playing A Game

by PrincessSmuttButt



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Clear's Route, Dirty Talk, Hate Sex, M/M, Maybe plot?, Oneshot, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i'm a slut for noijaku, noijaku, not really though?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 13:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessSmuttButt/pseuds/PrincessSmuttButt
Summary: Noiz is bored and finds himself on Aoba's doorstep, eager for company--when Koujaku answers the door, he sees an opportunity to play a little game. Koujaku doesn't want to play. He would rather spend his time with anyone but Noiz...Still, Noiz is pretty good at games. And Koujaku hates to lose.





	Just Playing A Game

**Author's Note:**

> just a trashy oneshot i conceived when i was drunk 
> 
> i love noijaku 
> 
> (takes place after clear's good ending because i didn't wanna deal with the confusion of ren's route sorry not sorry)
> 
> enjoy!

           Noiz was bored. That was the only to describe the dull ache in his chest. Complete boredom. There was nobody around to Rhyme with him, no oldies in the market for him to mess with, no Rib players to poke with a stick. He had walked around, weaving his way through the labyrinthine streets, for almost an hour before the dull ache had led him to Aoba’s house. He stood on the front porch with his hands in his pockets, fingers fidgeting with the cubes that lined his waist, and he puckered his lips in a strange confusion at his own habits. There was no immediate thought that should’ve led him here. Noiz was a simple boy—when he wanted something, he did what he could to get it. So when he didn’t know what he wanted, like right now, he became confused and wild and impulsive. He wasn’t even twenty years old yet and he wanted to milk this youth, whether he realized it or not, for whatever it was worth. Getting away with being stupid, sticking his tongue out at people, putting up his middle finger like a reflex; being able to do that wouldn’t last long, not when age was catching up with him like this.

His eyes turned to the sky, he rang Aoba’s doorbell. More likely than not, his grandma would answer. That stupidly hospitable (not too sweet) old lady with the braids and the delicious baked goods. Maybe he should’ve just gone straight to the junk shop, teased Aoba for a bit, begged him monotonously for a round of Rhyme. Why had he come to his house? Who fucking knows.

The old lady wasn’t the one to answer. It was that tall, red kimono-clad guy. The one who ran the salon, with the scar across his nose, the one who always looked at Noiz with disdain, contempt, every bad feeling you could think of.

Koujaku would have preferred to see anyone but Noiz on Aoba’s doorstep. This teenager, with his stringy, oily blonde hair, irresponsible piercings, strange white-blue-green wardrobe. He threw the door open expecting Tae-san, or Aoba, and was met with Noiz’s meandering gaze. He was looking up at the top of the doorway, lips puckered, not a care in the world. Koujaku couldn’t help but curl his face into disgust. He avoided this boy like the plague. He knew Aoba had, for some reason, taken a liking to him, and it pissed him off. There was nothing about him to like, and the jealous part that tended to dominate Koujaku’s personality made it difficult to even tolerate him. 

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“Usually the greeting is, ‘Hello,’” Noiz replied.

“Don’t make me pretend to like you.”

Noiz finally made eye contact with him, and he smiled crudely. He’d always achieved strange, sadistic pleasure from torturing Koujaku. It was so easy to push his buttons, after all. He was possessive and jealous and dramatic, and one move could set him off, and it gave Noiz a thrill. His youth allowed him that thrill. Like a little kid messing with bullies on the playground. If they tried to push him back, they got in trouble—he couldn’t possibly know any better. That’s what he liked people to think, anyway. He enjoyed the totally malicious glare in Koujaku’s scarlet eyes.

“Not gonna let me in?” he teased.

“Like hell I am.”

“I told Aoba I’d come by and wait until he was done with work,” Noiz lied. “You don’t wanna disappoint him, do you?”

Koujaku clicked his tongue. If he decided not to believe Noiz, and turned him away, there were a few possible outcomes. One, he really was lying, and Aoba would come home and everything would be normal. Two, he was telling the truth, and Aoba would return angry and impulsively emotional that Koujaku had fucked up whatever plans he had that afternoon. Aoba’s tongue could be merciless, and Koujaku was sensitive to it the way a child is sensitive to the reprimands of its mother. Perhaps the safe route was best.

“Fine.”

He left the door open and marched inside, and he heard Noiz’s steps follow him in. The door shut and then it was just the two of them in the house.

“Where’s the old lady?”

“Delivering medicine. And her name is Tae-san,” Koujaku called from the kitchen. He didn’t want to see Noiz’s stupid childish face longer than he had to. Noiz slipped off his shoes and smirked. He was ahead in this game, he was winning, and he liked nothing more than the thrill of winning. His socked feet padded across the wooden floor to the kitchen, where Koujaku was washing dishes like a good little boy, and he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. He could tell, he could so tell, that Koujaku was trying _real_ hard not to glance over at him.

“What are you even doing here, old man?”

“You’re not that much younger than me.”

“No work to do?”

“What about you, you little shit?”

“I work from home.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Koujaku wouldn’t even spare him a passing glance. He wouldn’t give him that. He was as much a player in this game as Noiz was, and he wouldn’t give him this point. He put the dishes in the drying rack and focused on the smile he’d see on Aoba’s face when he came home. Wow, Koujaku, how nice of you! I didn’t wanna have to do all those dishes...

“I’m just taking care of some chores before Aoba gets home,” he said, stressing Aoba’s name on his tongue. Noiz scoffed and moved into the kitchen, where he wandered like a child in a toy store. Not knowing where he was going, not really caring.

“What are you, his housewife?”

Koujaku still wouldn’t look at him. He scrubbed the dishes a little bit harder, to rid himself of the temptation to narrow his eyes and stare daggers at the green-clad brat, but he resisted. It wasn’t in his nature to give in. Not in this, at least. He put the dish in the drying rack and grabbed the next one.

“I mean...isn’t he taken?” Noiz ventured.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie,” he laughed, “the whole city knows he’s fucking that robot.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m his friend...”

“Right.”

Noiz wanted to pester him a bit more. Wanted to make him look into his eyes. He slid over to the sink, leaned his elbow against it, tilted his head until he was staring right into those shimmering-like-blood eyes. Koujaku deliberately turned away. Not even this would make him lose, not even with Noiz this close. No, he wouldn’t lose, not this time. Noiz fingered his allmates and smiled.

“Don’t tell me...you’re jealous of a robot?”

“Please.”

“You’re jealous of a robot.”

Koujaku closed his eyes, for just a moment, to swim in the darkness and regain his composure. Noiz watched him wordlessly, triumphantly, condescendingly. He liked to watch Koujaku’s lips twitch in irritation, his fingers quiver, the muscles of his shoulders tense up. As much as Koujaku wanted to win, Noiz wanted him to lose. Because he was a tiny little asshole and he knew it, savored it, owned it.

“Why’d he even want to see _you_ is an enigma,” Koujaku growled.

“Cuz I’m damn cute.”

“Cute. Right.”

“Look at my cute blond hair. And my cute little piercings. And my cute puckered lips.”

He leaned forward and puckered his lips—he knew, from Aoba’s drunken confessions, that he looked cutest and his piercings looked sexiest when he puckered his lips like that. He wanted to make Koujaku squirm with discomfort. His scar didn’t look so bad (maybe even a bit sexy?) when he scrunched his face up in distaste. Even if it was feigned.

“Your fingers look like prunes,” Noiz said. This time it wasn’t a lie. They really did. Koujaku had been standing over these dirty dishes for a while now. He had planned on yelling at Aoba when he came back. How can you leave all these dishes for Tae-san? It doesn’t take that long to wash dishes! Five minutes after dinner. You can do that, Aoba. Beautiful Aoba.

“Let me help.”

“You couldn’t help even if you wanted to,” Koujaku laughed. Noiz wasn’t expecting that sound, that laugh, to rush over him so quickly and so mercilessly. That scar was really something.

“I can wash dishes. It’s easy enough.”

Noiz reached over and grabbed the dish in Koujaku’s hands. Koujaku was taken off-guard, and was defenseless, paralyzed, when the tips of Noiz’s fingers brushed his. A shock ran through his body and for a single moment he was burning. Noiz took the dish, grabbed a stray towel, and began to wash it. Then he realized that he had to reach awkwardly to get it under the water, so he pushed Koujaku gently aside with his hip so he could squeeze in closer. Koujaku’s shoulder was pressed up against the fridge, his other shoulder pressed to Noiz’s. All he’d wanted to do was wash the dishes. Only someone as selfish, thoughtless, careless as Noiz was capable of ruining something as simple as that. Something so fucking simple—just washing the fucking dishes.

But boredom was a powerful force. Noiz was having the time of his life watching the colors shift in Koujaku’s face, and watching his mouth twist into distorted frowns.

“Tag team. I wash, you dry.”

Noiz handed Koujaku the plate. Without a word, Koujaku whisked the plate away and began drying it. For a few minutes it went on like that, both unwilling to break in front of the other. They washed dish after dish, dried dish after dish, tried to keep their eyes from meeting because there would be nothing worse. Noiz was hiding his smile, because oh how amusing this was, and Koujaku’s heart beat hard and fast with fury. Noiz was the one to break the silence.

“Does Aoba even know you’re here?”

“No,” Koujaku replied. “He doesn’t mind. I actually have a spare key, unlike _someone_ who at one point thought it would be a good idea to break in.”

“It worked out fine, didn’t it?” The smirk on Noiz’s face made Koujaku’s vision red.

“I don’t know. Did it?”

“The world is saved. Life can go back to normal. Sounds fine to me.”

“Except now there’s a shitty asshole of a kid hanging around. We can’t seem to get rid of him.”

“And who the fuck’s ‘we?’ You and Aoba? Please,” Noiz laughed. Koujaku’s hands were starting to shake, so he stopped drying the dish and leaned his wrists against the sink. He reminded himself to breathe.

“We’ve been friends a long time. I know him better than you ever could.”

“No need to get defensive. I don’t give a fuck about your unrequited love for him.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Oh, but I should tell you, since you’re obviously so in love with a guy fucking a robot,” Noiz said, slowly, finally turning to look into Koujaku’s burning eyes. He saw rage there, and he wanted it to come out. “Aoba and I...”

Koujaku’s head snapped around to face him, and Noiz knew then that he’d won. That was the best part of being able to control his emotions, especially when Koujaku was so bad at that. He could keep his cool and smirk like that forever, but Koujaku was a ticking time bomb. He’d been destined to lose from the start, and somewhere in his chest he’d known that.

“Never mind, maybe you don’t wanna hear it.”

“You and Aoba what?”

_Ha. I win._

“Eh, it was a while back. Not important.”

“You little shit.”

“Well, if you _insist_ on knowing.” Noiz turned and leaned his back against the sink, using his palms to steady himself. Koujaku’s face was so clear in front of him. Scars, red eyes, hair falling over his face in wild waterfalls and teeth bared like a caged animal. Koujaku wanted to reach out and rip those piercings right from Noiz’s smug face—maybe he’d finally look a bit respectable that way. Noiz couldn’t help but notice how sharp his eyebrows were.

“I went to visit your princess at the junk shop, one thing led to another...” His eyes (what a weird fucking shade of green) flickered up to the ceiling and his lips curled up to reveal his white teeth. “We made out for a bit.”

“You...” Koujaku searched for words, but found none.

“You can ask him about it, too. He definitely enjoyed it.”

Noiz looked back into Koujaku’s eyes and stuck his tongue out tauntingly.

That was it, that was Noiz’s checkmate, and Koujaku’s temper came pouring out. He lunged, grabbed Noiz’s lapel in tight, shredded fingers and pushed him back harder against the counter. It dug into his back and he wished he could feel the pain from it.

“You little shit,” Koujaku hissed, mouth inches from Noiz’s. He wanted him to feel the heat, the fury, of his breath. He wanted to frighten someone who couldn’t be frightened. It was a useless, futile endeavor, he knew, but his temper was leading him now. Noiz kept smiling, and glanced down, finding himself face to face with Koujaku’s chest.

“Old man can’t control his temper,” he teased.

“You treat everything like it’s a fucking joke. You have no respect for anybody, you walk around like you own everything, and—”

“And what?” Noiz bit his lower lip. From up close, the tattoo was fascinating.

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell Aoba sees in you, but whatever it is, it’s bullshit. You’re just a spoiled brat with a long tongue who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Yeah? And just who’s gonna teach me?”

Noiz lurched forward, until his lips were nearly touching Koujaku’s, and Koujaku cringed back. His hands were still tight on Noiz’s collar, and suddenly Koujaku realized just how close they were. One half-step further and their hips, their chests, everything would collide, and suddenly he was in a sauna and his hands shook.

“That tattoo’s pretty sick.”

“Shut up, brat.”

Noiz decided that he wanted to play a new game. He reached out and grabbed Koujaku’s collar, and pulled him in until their foreheads crashed together. His smile was like a distorted reflection of Koujaku’s animalistic snarl. Koujaku didn’t want to play this game...at least, he didn’t think he did.

“Come on. Didn’t you wanna teach me a lesson?”

“Are you high?”

Noiz snorted, and brought his lips closer.

“Don’t think so,” he whispered.

“You’re a cheeky piece of shit.”

“You flatter me.”

They were still for a moment. In Koujaku’s eyes Noiz saw bewilderment, confusion, uncertainty, and utter loathing. And in Noiz’s eyes Koujaku saw amusement, desire, contempt, and utter loathing.

Koujaku pushed him back against the sink and kissed him hard and fast. Noiz’s back arched over the counter and he felt the faucet digging into him. Koujaku’s lips were smooth and soft and full of hate, and it made the kiss so much fucking better. He kissed him, felt the hardness of the piercings jutting out of his open lip, and then his teeth sank down into Noiz’s mouth. Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty. He bit down, sucked, while Noiz’s fingers clawed their way to Koujaku’s neck and pulled him in tighter. Noiz weaved his leg up between Koujaku’s, and pulled him until he could press his knee up against Koujaku’s crotch. He dug his nails into Koujaku’s neck and smiled when Koujaku let go of his lips to heave a guttural, gravelly sigh.

“I...hate you,” Koujaku murmured, eyes glued to Noiz’s. And he meant it.

“I hate you more.”

“Open your mouth.”

Noiz did as he was told—a rare thing, truly—and opened his mouth. Koujaku, hands now on Noiz’s cheeks, thrust his tongue between Noiz’s lips. The piercing on Noiz’s tongue, hard and cold, made Koujaku’s body flare. Certainly at this point Noiz was uncomfortable, arched over the counter like this, but Koujaku liked it that way. He breathed out into Noiz’s mouth and their tongues clashed, intertwined, pushed against each other in a battle of strength. Koujaku swiped his touch along Noiz’s inner lips, and then pushed hard and fast to the back of his throat. Maybe without meaning to, Noiz let out a loud, glorious moan, lips becoming swollen and shiny. Koujaku’s tongue was thick and warm inside his mouth and he wanted it all over him. He put his arms around Koujaku’s neck and dug his nails into his back, pressed his knee up again, until Koujaku groaned heat into their long, sloppy kiss.

“Mm, _fuck_ ,” he hissed, letting his weight fall onto Noiz’s knee. He swiveled his hips and groaned again, and took the opportunity to bite down, hard, on Noiz’s lip.

“Yeah, you like that?” Noiz hissed into Koujaku’s mouth, and pressed harder.

“Fuck— _mmf_ —you.”

“Yeah, bet you’d like to.” Noiz brought his lips to Koujaku’s ear and bit down on his earlobe, and took out the hairtie in his ponytail. “Bet you’d like to fuck me _real_ hard, huh?”

When did this stupid kid’s voice get so damn sexy?

Koujaku’s body quivered and the white, stomach-churning pleasure spread from his crotch through the rest of him. He ripped off Noiz’s hat and buried his fingers in his hair, grasped it in clumps, and jarringly pulled his head back to kiss him again. Noiz slid his hands through the opening of Koujaku’s kimono and forced it over his shoulders. Then, without warning, he pressed his palms against Koujaku’s chest and pushed. Whirled him around, and then banged him back against the nearest wall. In his surprise, Koujaku was defenseless, as Noiz with one hand pinned his hands above his head, and with the other ripped his kimono open and pushed it down to his ankles. Koujaku leaned his head back against the wall, felt the pressure on his spine, and Noiz began to mercilessly devour the skin of his neck. Pressed his tongue down, hard, and swivel his tongue piercing around the delicate skin until Koujaku moaned out toward the ceiling. Noiz clawed at Koujaku’s bare hips, then moved his hand down to his ass, and squeezed, really _squeezed_. His cock was hard and, when Noiz pushed his hips up against him, he felt that Noiz’s was, too. They moved their hips together and Noiz groaned out against the red marks he’d left on Koujaku’s neck.

“Your hair’s in the fucking way,” he murmured, and grabbed a handful of hair. He pulled, forcing Koujaku’s head to angle, and then he kissed his neck harder. Like he was starving. Wet, sloppy, thick, lapping up his skin like water, moaning against his skin, struggling to breathe. Koujaku couldn’t help but smile. This game was pretty fun, after all.

Koujaku wrestled his hands from Noiz’s grip and ripped his tie off. Their lips crashed together again as he unbuttoned Noiz’s shirt, moved his hips up when Noiz squeezed his ass. He bit Noiz’s lip again, and heard Noiz mutter, “ _Harder_ ,” so he bit down even harder and then forced Noiz’s shirt off his torso.

“Hmm, what do we have here?” He fingered the piercings in Noiz’s nipples, then squeezed them between his index finger and his thumb. Noiz smiled, breathed out in a combination of a moan and a laugh, and Koujaku squeezed harder. Watched Noiz bite down on his lip and push his hips back as far against the wall as they could go. Koujaku moved his hands down to Noiz’s pants, undid the belt with those stupid cube allmates, and then watched his pants slide down. Then his boxers. His cock sprang up, throbbing, just as full of piercings as the rest of his body. Koujaku laughed out loud.

“What?” Noiz hissed, and pulled Koujaku’s hair again.

“You really like your piercings.”

“Fuck off, you do, too.”

“We’ll see.”

Koujaku deliberately, decisively, grabbed his own cock. Then he reached out and with the same hand grabbed Noiz’s, and then pressed them together.

He did like the piercings.

He rubbed their cocks together, and as the blinding pleasure weakened him, he leaned back against the wall and breathed. Noiz moaned and leaned forward, elbows on Koujaku’s shoulders, mouth right in his ear.

“Ff _uck_ ,” he groaned, and Koujaku’s eyes fluttered closed. Noiz watched his face, watched his open mouth, as they moved their erections together, slick and messy. Koujaku pressed his thumb against the heads and sighed. So Noiz followed his instincts—he took his fingers and stuck them into Koujaku’s mouth. Koujaku, surprised at first, opened his eyes and stopped moving his hand. But after that fleeting moment, when he caught Noiz’s stoic, red-faced gaze, he closed his eyes again.

Noiz pushed his fingers down against Koujaku’s tongue and felt it wrap around them, suck on them, nibble them, as their cocks continued moving together. When the saliva started dripping down the corner of Koujaku’s mouth, stuffed, Noiz pulled his fingers out and put his tongue there instead. He moved his hand, wet from Koujaku’s tongue, down his spine, down to his ass.

“Such a fucking _slut_ , hmm?” He purred on Koujaku’s lips.

“You’re one to talk.”

They smirked at each other, and then kissed again. Noiz wiggled his fingers in between Koujaku’s ass and searched for his entrance while he got lost in Koujaku’s messy, breathy kisses.

“Oi—what are you doing?” Koujaku suddenly said, as the tips of Noiz’s fingers entered him. Noiz blinked at him.

“Um. Trying to fuck you?”

“No, no, no,” Koujaku laughed, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t—what the fuck?”

Koujaku was going to win this time. He grabbed Noiz’s wrists, turned him around, and moved forward until they were facing the table. Rough and careless, Koujaku wiped everything off the table with one arm, then slammed Noiz’s chest against it and pinned his hands to the chipped wood. He curled his back over Noiz and chuckled into his ear, breathed out, until he felt the tension in Noiz’s spine release.

“I’m not the one getting fucked today,” he murmured.

Noiz tried to resist, but Koujaku was strong—much stronger than he looked, and much stronger than Noiz had ever expected. He couldn’t move. And as pissed off as he was, gritting his teeth, hands clenched into fists, there was a thrill here. The feeling of Koujaku’s wet, throbbing head on the small of his back, the roughness of the table against his chest, the marks that would be left on his cheek, Koujaku’s hoarse, deep voice curling into his ear, his hair falling, tickling his back. He couldn’t feel the pain, and that was a shame, but he could feel a lot of other things.  

“Aoba’s gonna kill you,” Noiz said, his voice muffled from the way his lips were crushed against the table. Instead of responding, Koujaku put his hand against Noiz’s head and pushed him down harder. He bit down on Noiz’s slender shoulder, dug his fingers hard into Noiz’s thigh, rubbed his cock up against him, all while pushing him down ruthlessly into the table. His hips moved rhythmically, leaving a trail of precum on Noiz’s back, and he felt his body becoming desperate. Then, lips on the back of Noiz’s neck, chest against his back, weight against him, Koujaku moved both hands to Noiz’s thighs and ripped them apart.

Noiz, almost reflexively, stuck his butt out. He hated himself for it. There was almost nothing he hated more than being controlled, but Koujaku was more controlling at that moment than he could resist.

“I fucking— _ah_ —hate you,” he hissed.

“Scream it a bit louder, hmm?” Koujaku murmured, and forced apart Noiz’s butt cheeks. As he put his fingers in, Noiz felt a strange, pleasurable pressure. This should’ve been painful, he knew, but he could only feel the ravishing sensation of Koujaku’s fingers widening him up.

But Koujaku was confused. He wanted to see the pain on Noiz’s face, watch him hold back screams, pleas, but all he could see was confused and numbed pleasure on his face.  

“Mo— _mm_ ,” Noiz began, and then stopped, voice stolen by a low, long moan. Koujaku stuck another finger in, and pushed them in deeper, and watched Noiz’s body jolt, crushed there beneath him. Then he ran the tip of his tongue down from the back of his neck, along his spine, to the small of his back. Koujaku loved carving him out, curling his fingers up inside him and controlling him.

Noiz was holding his breath, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and when Koujaku took his fingers out he let out that breath in a hoarse sigh. Koujaku didn’t wait until he’d caught his breath. He positioned his hips, pressed the tip of his cock between Noiz’s ass, and entered him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he murmured. Noiz was nice and tight, a narrow fit for his throbbing erection, and the pleasure of pushing himself in made his knees quiver. He waited for the scream, for the pain Noiz was feeling to finally reveal itself, but when he curled back over Noiz’s body and stole a glance at his face, all he saw was unbridled pleasure. Not even a hint of pain. Which didn’t make sense. He was tight—he couldn’t have done this before.

“Are you really this much of a masochist?” he groaned, slowly pushing himself in.

“Shut the fuck up and go deeper,” Noiz replied, his voice hardly there.

“My cock feels good inside you, doesn’t it?” He thrust his hips forward until he was all the way in, and Noiz let out another shameless moan and grinded his ass back along Koujaku’s cock. He pulled out a bit, and pushed back in, curling his hips up, and Noiz’s body rubbed up against the table.

“Ha— _aaah—_ harder...”

“Nope. I like teasing you.”

Noiz was so fucking angry. This was unbearable, restless pleasure, tearing his body apart and making him beg for more when he would’ve rather died than beg Koujaku for anything. Koujaku maintained this steady rhythm. Pulling out, and pushing back in, smothering Noiz’s ass with his precum and loosening him up. The pleasure made him grunt, especially watching Noiz’s body rhythmically move up, settle back down, move up with each thrust—his chest would be red after this, maybe he’d have splinters, who fucking cared. And with each undulation of his body he groaned, his fists became tighter, and he became more wordlessly desperate.

Koujaku teased for as long as he could, but he was throbbing and starving now. So he put one hand down against Noiz’s erection, wrapped his fingers around it, and put the other against his ass to keep him steady. He let his lips fall down against the center of Noiz’s back, and he fucked him harder. He pulled out, longer, and then pushed all the way in as hard as he could, and Noiz’s body shivered. As hard as he possibly could, he did it again, again, again. Grunting, pushing, squeezing, his thrusts became faster and harder. His animal grunts fell down upon Noiz’s back, and Noiz tried to keep his voice down, just to keep some pride, keep Koujaku from getting too satisfied, but it was hard. His voice was getting caught up in breathless whimpers as Koujaku pushed into him and ripped him apart, and the pleasure was building, building, building.          “Getting...close?” Koujaku taunted, voice broken with his grunts. Noiz dug his heels in and clenched his teeth.

“You— _ah_ —wish.”

He fucked him harder, faster, squeezed until his ass was red and his back looked like a battleground. As Noiz became blinded by the pleasure, by this warm whiteness, he gripped the edges of the table and pressed his forehead down. No fucking way he was going to come before Koujaku, no fucking—

“ _Ah, fuck!”_ he screamed, and then he reached his climax and came in rivulets that spilled out over Koujaku’s triumphant fingers.

Koujaku gave a few more heavy, hard thrusts, then stiffened, squeezed, pressed his lips down to Noiz’s ear, and moaned long, smooth as he came into him. As they gasped, tried to catch their breath, and Koujaku slid out of him, he whispered into his ear, “I win.”

“You won’t win next time, old man,” Noiz hissed. Koujaku grinned, and then finally let go of Noiz, stepped away, gave their bodies room to find themselves again. The kitchen was a complete mess, there was cum on the ground, they were both scratched up and bruised and Koujaku was aching and Noiz probably should’ve been aching.

This was a game they’d be playing again. Koujaku knew it, and Noiz knew it, as soon as they were both standing and staring at each other’s naked, soiled bodies.

“Not bad,” Noiz grinned.

“Not so bad yourself.”

Suddenly, they heard the door shut. And before they could even move, Aoba was in the doorway. He dropped the groceries in his arms, gawked at them, stumbled for words, as Ren popped out of his bag.

“Aoba, are you okay?” he asked robotically.

Aoba gawked for a few more seconds. Staring first at Koujaku, then at Noiz, then at their dicks. Then he clenched his hands into fists, grew the color of a tomato, and screamed.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing in my kitchen?”

They looked at each other. Koujaku was too ashamed to say anything, so Noiz was the one who answered. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he faced Aoba and shrugged.

“Just playing a game.”

 


End file.
